


hold me deep beneath your weight

by blackkat



Series: Heresy Drabbles [5]
Category: Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe - Star Trek Fusion, Humor, M/M, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-09
Updated: 2020-08-09
Packaged: 2021-03-06 02:14:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,235
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25795720
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blackkat/pseuds/blackkat
Summary: Unfortunately for Tup's composure, Dogma is a ruthless bastard, and he shoves Tup forward without mercy. “Lieutenant Opress,” he says loudly, and Savage turns, straightening to his full height. Tup refuses to think about how easily Savage could pick him up. Though, honestly, Savage could probably pick up him, Dogma, the control panel, and the two transporter technicians without even blinking.“Ensign Dogma,” Savage offers. “Nurse. Where is the rest of the party?”Dogma frowns, and Tup blinks. “There…isn't one,” he says cautiously, and tugs at the strap of his tricorder. “It’s just me. I'm the one beaming down.”
Relationships: Savage Opress/CT-5385 | Tup
Series: Heresy Drabbles [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1868647
Comments: 12
Kudos: 390





	hold me deep beneath your weight

**Author's Note:**

> For the prompt: Savage Opress/Tup or Waxer (or literally clone of your choice!). Savage as the security officer assigned to escort science officers or medical down to the planet?

“Oh,” Tup says, very quietly, and stops dead in the doorway.

There's a sound of protest from behind him, and then Dogma elbows him pointedly, leaning over his shoulder. “ _What_?” he asks testily, and then freezes, mouth clicking shut. He swallows audibly, and says, “Oh.”

Silently, Tup nods, staring at the security officer waiting on the transporter pad. He’s _massive_ , big even for a Zabrak, with sharp horns and yellow skin and striking black markings, and in the red of his security uniform, he’s—impressive.

So are his biceps, Tup thinks, and swallows, gripping his tricorder case a little more tightly. Of course they couldn’t get one of the regular clone officers to escort him. Of course he’d be assigned _Savage_ for this trip. Tup's luck is _awful_.

Unfortunately for Tup's composure, Dogma is a ruthless bastard, and he shoves Tup forward without mercy. “Lieutenant Opress,” he says loudly, and Savage turns, straightening to his full height. Tup refuses to think about how easily Savage could pick him up. Though, honestly, Savage could probably pick up him, Dogma, the control panel, _and_ the two transporter technicians without even blinking.

“Ensign Dogma,” Savage offers. “Nurse. Where is the rest of the party?”

Dogma frowns, and Tup blinks. “There…isn't one,” he says cautiously, and tugs at the strap of his tricorder. “It’s just me. I'm the one beaming down.”

Savage blinks, looking Tup over with a faint frown. “It’s dangerous,” he says. “The first away party encountered enemy fire within minutes, and the anti-Federation party has taken over a large portion of the countryside.”

“I know,” Tup says, and he does. Kix make _sure_ he knew every last horrifying detail before he pressed the vaccines into Tup's hands. “Commander Kix has most of the medical staff working on synthesizing more of the vaccine, though. I'm the only one he can spare.”

Savage’s brow furrows, and he crosses his arms over his chest. “Because you're _expendable_?” he demands, clearly offended on Tup's behalf.

It’s a ridiculous thought to anyone who knows Kix, and Tup can't help but smile. “No,” he says, and steps up onto the pad, nodding a goodbye to Dogma. “Because I'm the best shot with a phaser.”

For a moment, Savage doesn’t say anything, but one brow rises. He looks at the tricorder, the case of vaccines, and then at the phaser clipped to Tup's belt. Then, with a breath through his nose, he inclines his head. “More security would have been a good idea,” he says, almost a grumble, and waves at the technicians.

“Captain Rex must have a lot of faith in you,” Tup offers, and Savage shoots him a sideways look Tup can't quite read.

“Maybe,” he allows, and then there's a wash of light, the shivery feeling of the transporter engaging—

A blaster firing.

Tup is moving as soon as he’s tangible, throwing himself sideways. It’s a little like tackling a brick wall, but he knocks Savage to the ground, getting the biggest target out of the way, and then rolls up, returning fire. It gives him just enough time as the rebels scatter to look for their ground transport, but it’s nowhere to be seen, and he curses.

“Head,” Savage snaps, and a moment later a big hand locks around Tup's shoulder, shoving him back behind Savage’s bulk. “Where’s our transport?”

Tup spots a smoking pile of charred metal at the same time as he spots the native sneaking up behind them. “Gone,” he says grimly, and fires, sending the man toppling. “How did they know where we were beaming in?”

Savage grunts. “Informant in the government, maybe,” he says, and pauses. “It’s going to be a long run to the other away party.”

The minerals in the mills here disrupt the transporter signal, so there's no way to beam closer. And the away party _needs_ the vaccine if they're going to be able to keep up peace talks. Tup grimaces, but says, “We have to,” because there's no other possible choice.

There's a quiet snort, and then Savage shifts back, takes one more shot at the rebels, and wraps an arm around Tup's waist. Tup almost drops his phaser, fumbling desperately to keep a hold on it as his pulse skyrockets, but Savage doesn’t seem to notice. He just takes a breath, says, “Hang on to me,” and then surges to his feet.

Totally unlike any fantasy Tup has ever had, _entirely unrelated_ to any daydreams Kix might have caught him entertaining once upon a time, he hauls Tup right up off his feet, slings him over his shoulder, and _runs_.

Tup squawks in immediate, flustered indignation, grabbing for the vaccine case, for his phaser, for his dignity. There's no time to protest, though; a phaser bolt just misses them, and Tup grabs one of Savage’s horns, leans up, and fires back. In the same moment, Savage ducks sideways under the strange fungus-trees that populate this world, skids down a steep slope, and throws himself into the underbrush, hurtling through the vegetation. Tup stops firing when the rebels are out of sight and just hangs on, trying not to think too hard about how Savage is technically hanging onto a handful of his ass as he holds Tup in place.

“I don’t see them anymore,” he calls after several minutes of nothing but fungus trees and the sound of Savage’s footsteps, and pushes himself up a little higher on Savage’s shoulder. “You can put me down now.”

There's a pause, and then Savage slows and comes to a halt. “I have longer legs,” he says, like that’s the only necessary explanation, and then bends down, dropping Tup neatly on his feet. Tup staggers a step, not expecting the move, and Savage catches him with a concerned frown, one hand on his arm and the other splayed across his back. “Easy.”

“I'm fine,” Tup says with all the dignity he can manage, and carefully tugs the tie out of his hair, since it’s already slid most of the way out already. The elastic is almost completely stretched out, and he makes a face at it, but twists his hair up as best he can and secures it, then checks their location. “It’s only about five kilometers to the camp. If the land here isn't too rough, we should make that easily.”

When he glances over, though, Savage is staring at him, a strange look on his face. When Tup frowns in confusion, raising a brow at him, he twitches and looks away quickly, back the way they came.

“We should move quickly,” he says, a little gruff, and grabs Tup's wrist. “Come on.”

“I know how to walk by myself,” Tup protests, though he doesn’t try to pull away as Savage starts up another hill. “I'm not helpless.”

“I think you already proved that,” Savage says, glancing back, and there's a flicker of humor on his face. Humor and something else, that makes heat climb Tup's cheeks without his permission. “Very well.”

Tup ducks his head, rubbing the teardrop tattoo under his eye. “Well,” he says, and prays his voice won't crack. “As long as you noticed.”

Savage’s eyes linger on him for a long moment before he glances ahead of them again, hand still tight around Tup's wrist. “Believe me,” he says, and Tup can just see the curve of his mouth. “It was rather hard to miss.”


End file.
